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Postmodern Village
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your lover's house
by Hezekiah Allen Taylor

brokendown
high weeds crawling upward
the darkness of the windows
speaks

does he still sit
behind shades
and dream of Paris
while humming
Jimmy Buffett tunes
and practicing
practiced indifference?

you hope not
and
you hope so

you want to win
be ahead of him

shit, man
old love shrinks
like wet leather

a type of displacement

replaced by the stale
impersonal quality
of those metal Monopoly pieces

you are the race car
a palindrome, winning
backwards and . . . forewards

he is the old shoe
brokendown
like this house you remember

the thought makes you smile
as you walk slowly away
whistling
something from
“Fruitcakes”----
“Everybody’s Got a Cousin in Miami” maybe
or “Quietly Making Noise”
or “Love in the Library”

no, no
not “Love in the Library”

doesn’t matter really
the tune: irrelevant
the lyrics: unimportant
it’s the bounce in your step
that matters
it’s all about that bounce
in every
single
step going
so decidedly
away

Francine's Version -- Hezekiah's Version
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